Something out of Contact
by Regaime Seishi
Summary: Xover with Ironman. Tony Stark meets an interesting young man at an MIT convention. It turns out this boy is from a different world and trying to find his way home. I tried to make Tony as funny/snarky as possible. Stay tuned for a funny Jarvis/Ed scene.
1. The German Boy

Crossover with Ironman. Tony Stark meets an interesting young man at an MIT convention. It turns out this boy is from a different world and trying to find his way home. I tried to make Tony as funny/snarky as possible. Stay tuned for a funny Jarvis/Ed scene. lol.

A/n – so this is a Ironman/FMA cross. It's from Tony's pov to start out, but I do switch back and forth.

Prelude

Tony Stark could imagine the slightly robust, middle-aged, red-haired woman adjust her glasses in that nervous fashion he remembered from when she was merely a professor at the Massachusetts Institute of Technology. It was a habit he had always detested—a habit that led him to believe that perhaps Marilee Jones wasn't as qualified as the faculty at MIT thought. Well, he mused, she wasn't his dean and so he didn't really care. He just wanted to be through with this call as fast as possible—the new render for his suit should be about ready…

"Please, Mr. Stark. We need you there."

"Really. We? _Who_ exactly needs me?" The lady on the other line sighed.

"Half the university—along with half the world—thinks this convention is a waste of time. Child's play. Something out of _Star Trek_ or _Contact_. But if the famous Tony Stark was there…"

"Marilee, I have a million things to do. Attending the _Time Traveler Convention_ is last on my list. There's a reason half the world thinks it's a load of crap."

"Mr. Stark, _please_." The woman was growing desperate, Tony could tell. She would huff and puff for a bit, in which he would antagonize her, and then she would mention the MIT Commencement Speech he missed last June. And he would consent, because that's just who he was. Soft. Tony Stark had gone soft. Mentally, he sighed—ah, well, might as well save a few precious minutes. His new suit's completion was like a magnetic pull in the back of his mind—_very_ distracting, _very _hard to resist—a new toy on Christmas Day.

"_Alright_, Mary. I'll go. But if there's going to be media, expect sunglasses and a wig. I don't want the world thinking I'm into that sci-fi crack."

"I'll try and keep the cameras off you."

"You do that. Or Hogan will, in which case they'll be missing a few fingers."

He hung up, let out the sigh he'd kept bottled before. His head rolled back, stretching first one side of his neck, than the other. A few minor cracks and he straightened, shrugging his shoulders. Marilee Jones, black cloud of the morning (and on the upcoming 7th of May), had successfully been pushed to the back of his mind. Now, about that new suit…

Chapter 1- The German Boy

_Why_ had he agreed to this? Why? He was a moron; that was it. He scanned the crowd of eager Time-Traveler wannabes. Yup, Grade A Idiot. Half these geeks were probably fluent in Klingon. Why oh why…?

"I see you forgot your wig and sunglasses," came Marilee Jones's greeting. Tony rolled his eyes and took a sip from the scotch in his hand.

"A shame, really. _What_ was I thinking?"

"I'm very glad you decided to show up this time. We need your reputation to uphold our own."

"Yeah, well, Pepper wouldn't let me ditch. Neither would Jarvis—he just _would not_ shut up…"

"Still, thank you."

And away she went. Tony followed her with his eyes, brows raised, as she migrated over to a possible Trekky group. They were all beams and wide glasses. Thanking the _gods_ he hadn't turned out as one of them (geniuses had a certain stereotype about them, it was apparent) Tony swept the room again. This time his brown orbs alighted on a rather short, blond-haired adolescent. Said individual was glancing around himself, looking quite lost beneath his square frames. Something about this boy intrigued Tony Stark enough to decide to introduce himself. The ice clinked in his glass as he side-stepped through the crowd.

"You seem overwhelmed. It _is_ a lot to take in, I'll admit." The boy looked startled for a moment, then answered in rather broken English.

"I have not ever before attend these event." Tony nodded, trying to place his nationality. His accent was…odd…exotic.

"Where are you from?" When intuition fails, ask. Curiosity was certainly not a crime, especially to a man of his stature.

"Deutschland."

German? Tony's eyes narrowed as he sized the boy up. He may look German, but he certainly didn't sound it. His English was too smooth.

"I did a German lass once. Excellent ah," he made an inappropriate gesture, "_handling_. " The boy threw him a quizzical look.

"I not sure what mean you…"

"Right." Tony cleared his throat and took a sip of scotch. Time to change the subject. "So, what brings you to the _Enterprise_?" Again, that odd look. He would have to dumb down his English for this boy. "The convention, I mean. Interested in the time-space continuum?"

"Ja," the boy replied, nodding his head, "Very greatly."

It was at this moment that Tony noticed the boy's odd getup. He was wearing a mid-century coat—long and brown—with an olive vest and matching pants underneath. And he wore gloves. _Gloves?_ Before Tony could question the youth on his attire, however, the lights dimmed and Marilee Jones stepped up to the podium.

"We are glad to have you all here…"

_Blah, Blah, Blah_. Tony hated these opening speeches. They never said anything worthwhile. He tossed a glance at the _German_ _boy_ next to him. There was a deep scowl on his face. Well then, perhaps they had something in common after all.

"And now, Samuel Hockfield will demonstrate his time machine prototype."

Tony snorted into the last of his drink. _Time machine_? Who were they kidding? He chanced another look at his companion and found the oddest twinkle in the boy's eyes. Hope? He wasn't sure.

Had he been paying more attention to the presentation going on, perhaps the renown billionaire genius might have caught the obvious flaws in Mr. Hockfield's designs. But, of course, he was far too interested in knowing the reaction of his neighbor, who, he had just realized, he didn't know by name. So when Mr. Hockfield flipped the 'on' switch to his invention, he, as well as the rest of the room of amateur scientists, were unprepared for the results.

A flash of light, a resounding _boom_ and Tony found himself up against the far wall, patches of black dancing in front of his eyes. He blinked a few times, trying to shake his daze. His head was throbbing where it touched drywall—he must have hit it pretty hard. _Hold it_—what had happened? Vision restored, he took in his surroundings. The _time machine_ was smoking at the front of the room. The blonde kid was unconscious next to him, looking worse than he did. His face was rolled to the side and there was a scrap of metal sticking from his right arm…

Any other man on Earth would have concluded that the shrapnel in the boy's arm was from the machine that—as he now presumed—had exploded and thrown them across the room. Not Tony Stark. It was clear that this metal was _not_ from the tin contraption smoldering next to a very shocked Mr. Hockfield. Before the crowd of concerned bystanders could discover the boy's limb, Tony flipped the tail of his brown longcoat up to conceal it. If this boy was anything like him, then secrecy was first on the list of priorities.

Hogan had, for lack of a better word, elbowed his way to the front of the crowd, leaving a score of disgruntled convention-goers on their collective behinds. Tony grabbed the hand his body guard held out, extremely grateful to be helped to his feet. It took a few seconds to secure his footing, and then he turned his attention back to the immobile _junge_.

"Call a doctor, Hogan, and bring the car around. I think this convention's over." He lifted the boy's small frame into his arms, careful to keep the injured limb hidden.


	2. Mystery Boy

A/n – omg I got such good reviews for this!! I didn't expect _anything_!! And so fast too! (completely blown away). Ok, some fun facts for all those nice things you guys said.

1. Marilee Jones was a real dean at MIT. She recently resigned (in 2007) because she lied on her resume. Apparently she had fabricated her degrees.

2. There was a Time Traveler Convention in 2005 on May 7, at MIT. Go to the wiki page if you care—it's pretty amusing. Says something like, "no one came from the future but they might have been undercover." And "we'll keep streaming the coordinates and date so that travelers can find their way to the convention". All very amusing.

3. I think I got Samuel Hockfield's name by stringing together 2 names on one of the MIT wiki pages, or the time traveler Con. page…I can't really remember.

4. I listen to the Ironman soundtrack nonstop when I write this. :)

Chapter 2- Mystery Boy

The boy's eyes fluttered open halfway across Missouri, as the doctor had predicted. He sat bolt upright, amber pools brimming with fear. Tony looked up from his laptop.

"Where am I?"

"On my jet back to Malibu. No need to sweat." Confusion set in the boy's eyes.

"Malibu…?"

"California." Recognition spread across the blonde's face—Tony could tell it was false, but he chose to ignore it for now. He did, however, add it to the rapidly growing list of mysteries concerning this kid. Who hadn't heard of California? He held out his hand. "I'm Tony Stark, by the way."

"Oh, right. We never introduced ourselves," the boy realized. He looked at the outstretched hand, but made no move to take it. "I'm Edward."

"You speak good English, Edward," Tony commented, looking back to the computer screen, "You had me fooled."

"What? _Schei_."

"No need to swear. Your cover was blown when you acquired that unfortunate tear in your coat. And you haven't asked where your glasses are either."

The boy's fingers brushed his temple before his attention moved to his right sleeve where a mechanical mess quickly became apparent. Pieces of metal were sticking out of his arm, _from_ his arm. He swore again. Tony smirked, amused by his choice of colorful language.

"I don't suppose you'd tell me where you're really from?" He was met with silence. "No, guess not." He shrugged; never hurt to try.

"Why did you bring me with you?" The smirk grew. Edward fidgeted. Tony could tell he didn't like the fact that he couldn't figure out the motive by himself.

"You have your secrets, and I have mine," he replied. Edward sprang to his feet, suspicion narrowing his eyes. Realizing he had sounded like a kidnapper, Tony waved for him to sit.

"That's not what I meant. Frankly, I don't care _who_ you are. I just felt that you wouldn't want a roomful of time-travel freaks learning you had a metal arm. I wouldn't put it past them to jump to unnecessary and nonsensical conclusions."

Edward slowly took his seat. "Thank you," he said, against his better judgment, it seemed. It was obvious by the way he perched on the edge of his chair and the alertness in his eyes that he didn't trust his rescuer as of yet. And Tony Stark didn't blame him for it; there were few people he trusted in this world, and half of them weren't even human.

* * *

"Can you fix it?"

They were in his shop and Tony was looking at the boy's busted arm. Not long ago he had sat in that chair, fighting cardiac arrest. Now he was the one playing operation, albeit on something not quite as corporeal. Of course, he had moved the chair to the far corner of the shop, by the driveway tunnel. This way the various worktables and toolboxes hid the rest of the garage from view—Tony didn't want the boy noticing the Mark 3 computer interface or the Mark 2 suit hanging from the ceiling on the opposite side of the room. It wasn't that he had anything to hide, it would just be a bitch to explain.

Edward's eyes followed every movement he made with the small precision tool between his fingers. They were laced with worry as he waited for an answer. Tony, finally figuring out how to detach the arm, yanked it loose and set it on the workbench.

"If I can fly, I can certainly fix your arm."

"Excuse me?"

"Sorry, figure of speech." He dodged the further question ready on the youth's lips. "Hey Jarvis, do a scan for me."

"Will do, sir," came the computer's reply.

In a few minutes the scan was complete and now Tony studied it, trailed all the while by this watchful one's golden pools. "Ah, I see…the hinge is there…interesting design…tricky…"

"Can you _fix_ it?" Tony straightened from where he had been bent over at the computer screen and turned to the annoyed adolescent.

"Well, absolutely." The confidence in his voice seemed reassuring to the boy. He sighed and sat back against the chair, gazing at the ceiling.

"If Winry could see me now," he muttered, "_Sie würde mich töten_."

"Who's that?" Edward started—perhaps he hadn't thought Tony had been listening.

"A–ahh, childhood friend. She built my arm."

"And she's your age? Impressive…" It had been an insinuation only, but the fact that the boy didn't deny it led him to believe it was true. Tony moved his attention back to the boy's limb and continued to poke at its mechanisms. "And where does she live?"

"Germany."

"Ah, of course."

As he worked, Tony tried several attempts to learn the boy's heritage, but each approach, no matter how subtle, was met with high walls. It seemed Edward was very guarded about his past—which only made Tony more interested in finding out about it. But it was obvious he wasn't getting anywhere with friendly methods. Now that the arm was fixed, it was time to try something sneaky.

"Here, hold still."

"What's that?" There was suspicion in the blonde's eyes as he shied away from the mask in Tony's hands—which was to be expected.

"Harmless. Just a little anesthesia. You said yourself that the process of reattaching the limb can be quite painful. And since I don't exactly know what I'm doing…" It took no more convincing. In minutes the boy was singing like a canary—laughing gas had that effect on most minds.

"…can't wait to get back to Amestris…see Alphonse again. Even that bastard Colonel—excuse me—_General_…_schie _I miss alchemy…hope Al got his body back…be a shame if he was still a suit of armor…"

Tony smiled. He had never doubted his gut instinct. And he'd been right again. This small-statured boy was a giant of a discovery. Still, he hadn't expected to be so flabbergasted—surprise worked seldom on analytical minds. He had never heard of _Amestris_ before, even though he had learned the world's geography at a young age—perhaps those time-space geeks were on to something (though it was likely they didn't even know it). Usually he would be skeptical about the possibility of another dimension—it wasn't something a respected scientist and inventor believed in—and in any other circumstances he would chalk this boy's mutterings up to mental instability, but the boy's arm was far too advanced to be from their world. That and his accent—it was something Tony had never heard before.

* * *

Edward faded back to reality with the oddest feeling—something along the lines of…self-inflicted betrayal. He had a vague memory of mentioning his brother and Amestris… Horror filled him—he'd been drugged! Inwardly he burned with anger, but outwardly, he groaned—of all the _stupid, moronic_—

"You're lucid, I see." Tony Stark leaned against the work bench, espresso in hand, looking very amused. "Because I've been meaning to ask you about this _Amestris _you mentioned. It's another world, right?"

Edward's jaw dropped open for a brief moment, and then anger quickly overtook any lingering disbelief. He launched himself off the operation chair and at the man grinning smugly over his coffee mug. Two gloved hands found themselves around Tony's neck as glass scattered across the concrete floor.

"How could—who are you!?" he demanded, a wild look in his eyes. His thoughts were racing—who would want information out of him? Unless—he was one of those—what had he called them? _Time-traveler _geeks? Did this man _honestly _believe he was from the future? His grip tightened as the man beneath him grabbed his wrists, trying to pry the hands away. "What do you want with me!?"

"—mmy…" He loosened the hands just enough to get a coherent response. "Dummy," the man repeated. Edward laughed sardonically—not something he was used to doing—perhaps the full effects of the anesthesia hadn't worn off yet.

"Insulting me probably isn't the best idea at the moment," he warned, just as the pressurized coolant hit him close range.

* * *

The effect was instantaneous—Edward's eyes rolled to the back of his head and he slumped, falling on Tony in a more-than-awkward position.

"Thanks Dummy," the man groaned, equal amounts of sarcasm and gratitude in his voice.

It was at this unfortunate moment that Pepper Potts decided to make her entrance. She keyed her pin code into the newly reinstated glass door (the windows had been fixed as well, and she hadn't even asked about them…though it went without saying—she probably already knew…because Pepper knew everything) and stepped through to find her employer with a young male specimen sprawled on top of him, the boy's nose buried in the neck's most provocative niche.

"_Tony?_"

"Yeah? Christ he's heavy for such a small..." Tony was too busy rolling the unconscious teen off of him to notice the horrified look on his assistant's face. "Oh, hi Pepper," the man greeted, finally succeeding in ridding himself of his burden. He hopped to his feet, rubbing a hand along his neck and shot a smile at the speechless woman in front of him. She noticed the red welts hand printed around half of his neck and stepped closer to run a manicured finger gingerly along its length.

"What happened?"

"Nothing, he just…overreacted a bit."

"A _bit_? He could have _killed_ you!"

"Yeah, well, luckily I had Dummy to—for lack of a better word—_help_." He glanced over to the robot, who, as if knowing it was being talked about, whirred slightly. "I guess you deserve _some_ credit," Tony told the automaton. He turned back to Pepper, an amused grin on his face. "He actually missed me this time, if you can believe it."

"Is that so?" Mrs. Potts sighed (she had no idea _what _nonsense he was spouting) and dropped her hand from her employer's neck. "I'm going to get something for those welts," she informed him, stepping carefully over the broken glass with an exasperated sigh and making her way back to the door. She stopped and turned again. "I came down here to ask if you wanted another place set for dinner." She glanced tentatively at the sleeping boy half sprawled on the workbench. At Tony's nod she gave a slight frown and exited the shop—clearly she didn't like the thought of a murderous teen in his house.

He studied the boy with something along the lines of _intellectual_ _hunger_ set deep in his eyes. Plans were already plotting themselves in his mind as crossed the garage to his work station, sank into the leather swivel chair and typed his password into the encrypted keyboard.

"Jarvis, what's the chance of being able to jump dimensions?"

".001 percent without knowledge of another dimension actually existing."

"And what about _with_ knowledge?"

"Remarkably higher. 54 percent."

"Don't tell me what happens in the case of the other 46 percent…"

He glanced over to the boy again, the one who had landed in this world on the lucky side of fate. If _he_ could do it, then perhaps…but what would he do in another dimension? Save for the bragging rights, he had no idea. And it wasn't as if he would be able to brag all that much anyway (the world would think him crazy, and it hadn't felt that good the first time). Still, if only for the personal satisfaction…

* * *

A/n- more fun facts!!

5. the German in this ch. means, "she would kill me." lol.

6. I actually drew a map of Tony's garage, using the drawing from the bonus dvd and the movie itself. It was NOT easy. He keeps fricken changing things!! In the entire movie, I don't think he keeps the setup the same in any 2 scenes! He keeps adding computers (he's got like, 20), moving benches around…it's ridiculous. But it _does_ give me a bit of freedom—it means I can move stuff around if I need to. :)


	3. All Around Awkward

A/n- someone said there were parts that were confusing. I was wondering which ones so that maybe I could clear things up? Anyway, enjoy the filarious Jarvis/Ed scene. lol.

Chapter 3- All-around Awkward

Edward awoke for the second time in as many hours, only this time he did so to a layer of white foam covering him…well, pretty much everywhere. He couldn't remember how it had got there…in fact, the last thing he remembered was strangling the man who had drugged him.

He rolled off the workbench with a slight groan—his back throbbed where the corner of the table had been digging into it—and stretched the stiffness from it. He then tried brushing off the white film, but to no avail. He frowned, wondering how ridiculous he must look—like Frosty the Snowman, albeit a thinner, less jolly version. Perhaps closer to Jack Frost? Edward shook himself—why was he thinking such nonsense?

Tony Stark was nowhere to be seen. Edward glanced around, half expecting the man to pop out from behind the tool cabinets or something. It was odd that he had just left him here, in what seemed to be a roomful of secrets and valuables. Having nothing better to do, he decided to poke around, reasoning that he shouldn't have any qualms doing so to a man who had drugged him. It would make them even—secrets in exchange for secrets, dishonesty for dishonesty.

He would have started with the computer, but it looked complicated. The keyboard seemed to be of its own language and no doubt there would be a password… He continued to the other side of the shop, taking in the metal pieces and half-built projects strewn onto every flat surface. Considering Tony had a personal assistant and two robots to clean up his messes…well, Edward was afraid to know what it would look like if they _weren't_ there to tidy things up. However, it wasn't until he rounded a large black tool cabinet that he found what he was looking for…and proceeded to be stopped in his tracks.

Hanging from the ceiling, supported by a thick chain under each arm, was…well, to be honest, he didn't know what it was. A robot? Some sort of metal man-suit? He approached with curiosity and walked around it, gold eyes touching on everything. He stopped once he'd made a complete 360 and stood in front of it. It was quite impressive. A deep silver color, lots of overlapping parts, an odd hole in the middle of the chest… All in all, it was intimidating, but the mask in particular was fierce—Edward took a step backward instinctively.

A pneumatic hiss sounded as pressurized air rose from the floor, which, oddly enough, was sliding away beneath his feet—Edward ended up doing an awkward tap-dancing routine to keep on solid ground. This was not to be the last of his problems. No sooner had the floor stopped moving did half a dozen mechanical arms drop from the ceiling with instruments designed to dissect machines twirling in their robotic fingers. And from the way they were pointing at the blonde, he was sure he'd been mistaken for one. His eyes widened as the whirring screw heads neared and he wished that—for once in his life—his intuition had been wrong.

"Ow—Hey!! Knock it—what the hell—!?" The mechanical arms seemed hell-bent on taking him apart, one limb at a time. They poked and prodded in all manner of places—the stomach, shoulders, head, chest—even the butt! Edward batted the arms away, all the while looking for a gap in the curtain of mechanics surrounding him so that perhaps he could escape.

"Sir, how many times do I have to ask that you hold still?" The voice made Edward jump—_where_ had it come from? He glanced around, through the wall of motorized screwdrivers, thankful that they had stopped trying to castrate him for the time being. No one in sight.

"What the hell…?" Another sweep of the room. Still no one. "Who's there?" He was met with silence. Whoever it had been, he must have left. Odd, though, that there would be a British man in Mr. Stark's house…he hadn't mentioned a butler or the like…

The sound of rockets powering down and then a series of clanking brought Edward out of his ponderings. He peeked through the robotic arms again and this time the shop wasn't so empty—a suit of armor was walking toward where he was surrounded (the clanking he heard were its footsteps, he now realized). It looked like the silver one behind Ed, in shape anyway, but this one was painted red and gold.

"Jarvis, what have I said about violating little boys?" The voice was deep, mechanical—synthesized. So, Edward thought, was this _thing_ a robot? Then the face plate slid back and Edward's mouth dropped open. His surprise was so great, in fact, that he completely forgot about the jab to his height.

"_Mr. Stark?_" Tony smiled briefly and took off his helmet. He shot the boy an odd look, probably wondering why he was surrounded by machines and in such an odd position—one foot was still raised from when he had dodged the screwdriver aimed at his foot (even if it _was _fake, he still didn't want it damaged) and his right hand had a death grip on the screwdriver bent on drilling through his ear. When the machines had froze, so had he.

"I thought he was you, sir." The Brit again, answering Tony's question. Where was he?

"You were just arguing with me about the rescue request for that old bag's cat. You knew I wasn't here."

"…" Silence, or rather, a very quiet static ensued. It gave off the feeling that _Jarvis_ (whoever and wherever he was), was embarrassed by his mistake.

"Jarvis?"

"I'll admit I was a bit confused. Normally you don't leave strangers in your shop unattended."

"Yes, well, meet Edward. He'll be staying here until further notice…though it's possible you've just traumatized him for life. I may have to send him to a mental hospital."

"…I'm very sorry, sir."

Edward raised an eyebrow, wondering at the relationship between Mr. Stark and the mysterious voice (which, it seemed, was coming from the ceiling…?). Tony was clearly joking, and yet the Brit didn't seem to be picking up on the amusement or sarcasm in the man's voice.

"Who _is_ that?" Edward whispered, finally detangling himself from the mess he'd been in. Tony threw him an amused grin and chuckled softly.

"That's Jarvis, my computer." Tony raised an eyebrow—the boy had been awake when he asked Jarvis to do a scan on his arm—had he not been paying attention?

"Oh," was Edward's first response, and then the information sank in. "Wait—your _computer_? It talks?"

"All computers _talk_. This one is just programmed to do so audibly. Of course, it only has mine and Pepper's voices in its database, which is probably why it was confused when you…I'm sorry, what _were_ you doing?"

"I—I didn't do anything. I was just looking—" Edward gestured toward the silver suit "—and then the floor…"

"Yeah, sorry about that. Like Jarvis said, I don't usually have people down here…"

Tony trailed off due to the burning question in the boy's eyes. He was marveling at the suit Tony wore, a childlike curiosity set deep within the golden pools. In fact, Tony realized, it was the first time this _boy_ had acted like one—for the short time Tony had known him, he played the regretful old man almost painfully for all the worry lines set above his brow. Indeed, there seemed to be a heavy weight upon his shoulders. Tony laughed at the hunger in his gaze, stepped into the circle of robots, and gave a short order to Jarvis to start the process of removing the suit before he addressed the boy's unasked question.

"I built this to destroy the weapons my company has been selling to terrorists." He laughed, though there was no mirth to it. "And now that the world knows who I am, I'm getting all kinds of ridiculous requests. Rescuing damn _cats_…"

The last part he muttered to himself, remembering the crap he'd been through earlier. He had refused to help the old woman and had told her to call the fire department, to which she had taken to swearing and hitting him with her brick-filled handbag. Tony shook his head. It hadn't hurt, obviously, but the shame of being beaten by an old lady…_horrifying_.

The suit finally off, Tony turned again to the blonde. He was staring around the garage, marveling at the immensely high-tech equipment interwoven with older, quirkier items such as the jukebox in the corner.

"So, how does your arm feel?" Edward blinked and raised his right arm; he hadn't thought about it since waking. He rotated it slowly, first one way and then the other.

"It feels…brand new," he replied, awe in his voice, "It hasn't felt this good since…"

"Since you were in Amestris? With your friend, Winry was it?" The slightest of smiles spread across Tony's face when Edward nodded. Another correct conjecture. Perhaps he shouldn't have mentioned it, though, for he could tell the anger was rising in Edward again at the thought of being tricked into revealing his secret.

"That was a dirty trick you pulled," the boy said, calmer this time, but there was still a murderous glint in his eyes. "Why would you want to know about me?"

"Curiosity, that's all," Tony replied with a shrug, "Don't take it so personally. I know your secret and now you know mine."

"They're hardly equivalent." Edward watched as Tony shrugged again and began to putt around the shop, picking up stray pieces of metal or wire, checking something on the various computers strewn across the room, all in increasing annoyance. He was about to say something more when the man spoke.

"I have a few questions about this world of yours. Well, more specifically I'd like to know how you got here."

"Why would I tell you?" There was hostility in his voice. Tony sighed, almost to the point of exasperation from this boy's paranoia.

"Because, I may be able to help you. You want to go back, am I right? That's why you went to the convention." Edward stayed quiet, but there in his eyes shown the same element that Tony had seen at the convention. Hope. He dropped into the swivel chair by his left and unlocked the computer, hiding a grin. Right again.

Edward's moves were sluggish. He sat down next to Tony, leaning forward on the edge of his chair. "Do you really think you can…?"

"Maybe. It'd be nice if I had more information though. Perhaps then I could figure out where to start." He gave the boy an expectant eyebrow-raise. Edward shifted in his seat, hesitating.

"It's…complicated…"

"Try me." Tony leaned back in his chair, crossing both arms and ankles. A reluctant frown passed Edward's face, and then he began.

"In my world, unlike this one, we use a different type of science."

"Alchemy," Tony supplied, remembering the boy's babbling.

"Right. By using a complex formula—we call them transmutation circles—I was able to pass through the Gate…"

The boy's eyes lowered, lost focus for a moment. He was remembering something, of that Tony was sure. He waited for the boy to pull out of his trance. When at last he did, pain and sorrow drowned those once radiant golden orbs. He sighed.

"But alchemy doesn't work on this side of the Gate, so I can't use it to return home. Even if I could, there's still the law of equivalent exchange…" The boy seemed to be talking to himself now. Though Tony was curious as to what he would say, he needed to understand this boy's jargon.

"So what's this 'Gate'? Some sort of portal?" At Edward's nod, he continued. "And equivalent exchange, what does that mean?

"In order to gain something, you have to sacrifice something of equal worth." It was Tony's turn to nod.

"Then I imagine the price to cross this 'Gate' of yours is pretty steep." Worry hit Edward like a strike to the face.

"That's the thing—I don't _know_ what the price is. I arrived here in perfect health." His brow furrowed, making him look much older than his eighteen years.

"Well, we aren't going to get anywhere on an empty stomach," Tony said, rising from his chair, "C'mon, dinner time." When the boy didn't move, he placed a hand on the youth's shoulder. "It won't due to worry," he advised, "because you still intend on finding your way back."

Edward looked up, surprised by the fatherly tone in the man's voice. "Right." He grinned. Tony gave the boy's shoulder a pat, seeing the determination enter his eyes once more.

"Now then, dinner. I think the chef chose a Greek tonight…" He grinned

Tony led the way to the dining room, grinning at how wide the boy's eyes got when he mentioned food. Perhaps they did have some things in common after all, other than the desire to bend the rules of physics and travel across dimensions. Then Edward stopped halfway up the staircase and looked down at himself. He was still covered head-to-toe in dried flame-resistant foam. He gave Tony a sheepish look.

"Can I take a shower first?"


End file.
